


Hippocratic

by neifile7



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Episode Tag, Frottage, M/M/M Threesome, Multi, PWP, necrophilia of a sort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-09
Packaged: 2017-12-28 23:19:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/998104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neifile7/pseuds/neifile7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's entirely possible that Jack can make a dead man come.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hippocratic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [andreth47](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=andreth47).



> First published on LJ on 3/9/09.

 

He's had worse days, Owen thinks, striding through the cog-door.  Tally: one death, one life. He couldn’t save Parker, but at least he’d talked the girl out of jumping. He’s still the doctor, and Torchwood bloody needs him. And he’s got ideas for a few projects, since he can't sleep --

 

Oh, god. The Captain and Teaboy. Up to their games again at  _his_ desk.

 

He freezes.  _Jesus, that’s hot, and I can’t even appreciate it properly._   Ianto’s sprawled in his chair, hands bound behind his back (Gwen’s handcuffs, and dammit, he’d fantasized this, never been able to talk her into it); Jack’s straddling his lap, cupping his head as he runs his tongue over lips and chin, nipping as he goes. They’re both fully dressed, belts and flies undone; Jack strokes slowly with his hips, an up-and-down roll that is driving Teaboy mad, if that strangled whine is anything to go by.

 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake –“

 

They break apart, and Owen glimpses Ianto’s face, pupils blown and unfocused, lips bruised. Jack gives a long lick up his chin and then turns lazily to face Owen. No sign of embarrassment, the bastard.

 

“The good doctor! Just who we need.” He hitches up off Ianto’s lap and strolls over. Owen can’t help glancing at the tent in his trousers, and Jack’s grin widens. He pushes right into Owen’s space, bumps him a little with his hip. “Quite a day we’ve had,” he says conversationally. “All of us need to unwind. You most of all.” He raises a hand to Owen’s face, trailing his knuckles along one cheek. Owen can’t feel the touch, but there’s an obscene tenderness in Jack’s eyes that jolts something in him.

 

Behind them, Ianto makes an urgent noise, then whispers, “Jack.” His eyes, however, are on Owen.

 

Owen swallows – well, what used to be swallowing – and says, “Uh, listen mate, in case you’ve forgotten, this was never my thing to start with, and I still can’t – uh –“

 

“Oh, but I think that’s where you’re wrong, Dr. Harper,” Jack breathes into his ear. Fuck, the man has a pornographic voice. He grabs Owen’s arm, towing him over to the chair. “Not been all that long, has it? You still remember how it feels. You can still  _see_  it,” and Jack slides behind Owen, hands on shoulders; he gently nudges him toward Ianto, who stares up glassy-eyed. “Always room for one more, right?”

 

This last seems directed at Ianto, whose gaze sweeps them both and sharpens.  _He’s fucking undressing me with his eyes,_  Owen thinks.  _This is mad._

 

But oh, god, lust like this, aimed at him,  _including_ him, something he’d never thought he'd see again; it’s all real and raw, Ianto’s harsh breathing, Jack’s arms snaking over his torso and that voice murmuring in his ear. And he's  _present_. He's part of it, dead or not.

 

“Some things you don’t forget.  No more than you forget how to be a doctor,” Jack hisses, and his tongue sweeps Owen's neck.  “Mmm, can still taste you all right. You smell good.  You feel good,” and Jack’s hands are wandering over his chest, and shit, he can’t feel them but he actually  _shudders_.

 

“See?”  Jack breathes.  “There’s all kinds of things you can still do. You could start by taking Ianto’s cock out and having a good look at it. Go on,” and Owen rocks forward, sensing that Jack's hips are pressing his own, guiding him down.

 

_What am I doing here?_  But after a moment’s hesitation, Owen fumbles cautiously into Ianto’s trousers, drawing out his cock as gently as he can.  Ianto immediately arches up groaning, and jesus, he is beautiful, his cock is swollen and red and curves up just so, and he looks so damn wanton that it sets off echoes in Owen’s mind of all the best fucks he’d ever had. Had he ever looked like this?

 

“Put your hands on his shoulders,” the voice in his ear instructs, and Owen complies. Bloody hell, Jack’s hands have come around his waist and they’re undoing his fly, sliding trousers and pants down; a hint of pressure, that's Jack pushing his own cock right behind his balls. The rhythm, he can feel that, steady movement of hips, and now Ianto is arching up, urgently seeking the friction of Owen’s belly. He can see it, he remembers how good that was, remembers in every thrust and the open mouth and glazed eyes under him.

 

“Dead or alive,” Jack’s voice a little hoarse now as the rhythm builds, “you are –still – so – damn – hot –“

 

And Ianto shouts raggedly and comes against Owen’s belly, while Jack’s gasping draws to a harsh crescendo behind.. Something fizzles behind Owen’s eyes, a few synapses that still seem to be firing, and everything whites out for a moment.

 

It can’t be. He wasn't hard, there’s no physical sensation at all, but he’ll swear that he just came.

 

He dimly senses pressure against his neck – is that a kiss? – and then Jack's voice whispers, “Just remember, Dr. Harper. The mind is still the biggest erogenous zone of all.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Original version written for the first TW/DW Porn Battle in March 2009. Prompt: frottage. All credit to 51stcenturyfox and the late, great andreth47 for inventing this particular sandbox. The archive of all the porn battles may be found here.


End file.
